


The Huli Jing and the Red Room

by parsnips (trifles)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Animalistic, Auction, Cannibalism, Chains, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Folklore, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Incest, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Master/Slave, Muteness, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Violence, Prisoner of War, Sex Magic, Sexual Slavery, Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-07
Updated: 2005-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trifles/pseuds/parsnips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, side by side and as trussed and full-fleshed as Yule geese. And real, they must be real, neither <i>gui</i> nor Polyjuiced prostitutes, because Malfoy was many things but gauche was not one of them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Huli Jing and the Red Room

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 7.7.05 for the June Fantasy Fest at pornish_pixies. Any errors in the Chinese culture or language are entirely my own. The folklore... well, I played a bit loose with that as well. Additional warnings: bondage, semi-graphic torture, slave/master dynamics, chains, extremely questionable consent, voyeurism/exhibitionism, implied incest, and a dystopic post-War scenario just for kicks.

  
The room was done in red, darker than Gryffindor, more blue tones than blood. The chairs were upholstered in brocade, a repeating pattern of Chinese dragons, though it was said that Draco Malfoy transfigured them from floor pads just for these occasions. The drapes were floor-to-ceiling silk velvet; the china was etched with delicate red pagodas. Since the end of the war an Asiatic theme had become popular for those who could afford the look.

Young Malfoy's parties were always civilized affairs tinted by his time with the Allies. Just when one thought the tea would never stop being poured and the conversation could get no worse than the most recent Chinese cleaning spells translated for Western use, he'd reveal his latest exotic bauble or trick with the indifferent air of someone introducing a new house elf. A month before, he'd brought forth an off-white globe, slightly larger than his thumb, patterned cutouts all through it. When he turned it several smaller spheres nestled within the globe turned about as well. A red ribbon tied them all together. "Bone," he said, "carved by hand, not by magic. A present from my benefactors in Peng-lai." Malfoy had held up the bone favor by its ribbon and watched it slowly spin for longer than simple physics would allow. "I'm told that it's one of the earliest Sneakoscopes in existence. Our allies had the ability to detect such things long before we did."

And then Malfoy had waved his hand, murmured something in Chinese -- showing off, but so impressive, impressive nonetheless -- and Harrington had begun to sizzle.

While not precisely appetizing at first thought, the meat was tender and excellently flavored when each guest tried a piece of the dim sum the servants had prepared from the traitor. The bauble was then hung from the fireplace mantle's corner and Malfoy did not look at it again, though every other eye in the room tracked the bone device as if waiting for the show to start again.

While often stultifying and dangerous by measure, no Malfoy soiree was worth missing.

The air was humming with anticipation. Fear as well, naturally, but that only added to the excitement. Some twenty notable persons were speaking quietly amongst themselves, sipping their tea from delicate cups, careful to observe the formalities Malfoy required of visitors to the mansion. The man himself poured his own tea and drank it alone, an inner peace radiating from him that belied his earlier history. His more immediate family, always present at these events, were quick to notice the change, but equally quick to silence any who would make mention of it. Everyone remembered how ill Narcissa had fared by her son's ire.

Malfoy set his cup down and did not refill it. A moment later long-haired cats, with odd smiles on their faces and balancing delicately on their hind legs, rose from the floor as food is risen by house elves. Sharp breaths were taken, a gasp. Wizarding Britain had heard tales about the Luck Cats but they were said to serve no Westerners. And yet--

But the Luck Cats did not gambol about the room, stealing imported jade rings or singing flowers into the women's hands, as they were said to do. They divided into groups, and like regular little house elves they closed the drapes, took the cups and pots, and lit the lanterns. They left as quietly as they came, servants like any other servants, Malfoy paying them no attention. It was a race amongst the guests to appear as nonplussed as their host, though their eyes betrayed them as always, always.

"It grows late," Malfoy said. "Thank you all for coming. For those of you who don't have to leave immediately, though, I would show my thanks for having your company a little longer by offering a diversion somewhat different from my previous ones."

He smiled politely. No one moved.

"How pleasant," Malfoy said.

He stood and clapped his hands. As with the cats previously, a pair of wooden poles began to rise from the floor. "I would suggest you move," Malfoy said. "I understand that this might be quite large." Women rose sedately from their chairs and men ambled toward the walls. The chairs and tables moved themselves, sinking even as the poles reached higher from the carpet, now each revealing a metal ring. Attached to the rings were ropes seemingly straining into the soft existence of the floor.

The poles and ropes continued upwards, a drawn-out thrust, and then there were hands, pale and curled hands, a pair tied to each pole, and then arms, soft indents marking the elbows, muscles defined by the pull of the ropes. Women, two women, were tied to either pole, kneeling on the wooden dais with their arms above them, their ankles tied together and to the base of their respective poles. Blonde and red, eerily matching. Their breasts were each small and made taut by the stretch of their bindings, areolas as pale as pink jade, nipples hard. Thin thatches of hair curled barely visible between each of their legs, so light in color as to be difficult to distinguish from simple shadow. Their buttocks were cradled by the expanse of creamy skin and firm muscle that formed their calves, ankles sweeping gently into the structure of their feet. The women's features were wildly different, ruining the matching effect, but what the difference revealed was perhaps the best part of the surprise.

Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, side by side and as trussed and full-fleshed as Yule geese. And real, they must be real, neither _gui_ nor Polyjuiced prostitutes, because Malfoy was many things but gauche was not one of them.

It needed making sure of, however. Knightbridge made the leap. "How wonderful, Draco," he said, the first to break the silence and voice the question no one would dare make obvious. "You've caught yourself a pair from Potter's Army."

Malfoy gave a deprecating gesture and with this, the tension left the air for the moment. The guests swarmed forward as quickly as gentility allowed. Silk robes were brushed against the women and the girls' mute flinches were delighted in. "Awake!" came the murmur. "Better and better."

Malfoy watched from his place by the windows. Just as Rodolphus thought to actually reach a hand toward Luna's quavering belly, fingers twitching, nails filed sharp, Malfoy said, "I have a game to propose." He stepped forward, his eyes trained on Rodolphus with calm disinterest. Rodolphus lowered his hand. Malfoy stepped up upon the dais and lightly ran a finger over Luna's cheek, another over the smooth length of Ginny's stretched arm. The girls closed their eyes and tried to pull away. The ropes were utterly secure.

"I thought perhaps an auction might be a suitable entertainment to thank you all for being my very favorite guests. I've kept these traitors well-fed," Malfoy said, "and they've had the delights of the _Da Siu Yan_ visited upon them." A person who made little-people curses. Rare in England, even now. "They are prepared to enter the service of any of you, should you so wish it. Keep them as slaves, _cheng-huang_ or alive, whichever you like. Crucio them until they go mad. Kill them. Or let them go, and watch how _siu yan_ survive in the world without the ability to break the curses set upon them." Malfoy stepped off the dais. Wide eyes watched him, from the prisoners and the guests alike.

Melinda Bainsbury said, "Is it a matter of gold?"

Malfoy waved her question away. "Nothing so crass," Malfoy said. The guests subtly shifted away from Melinda, but Malfoy continued. "Whomever wants to possess this pair must use them now as if you might never have another chance with them. I will judge. You each can have a measure of time with the prisoners, here and now, and I will determine when your time is up." Malfoy ducked his head with charming -- false -- deference. "I beg you each, in your time with them, not to render them utterly unsuitable for the game."

If immediate revenge had been considered by anyone up to that point, the thought withered at his words.

Again, it was Knightbridge who made the first move. He stepped hesitantly onto the dais, and then knelt on one knee between the two girls. Half his attention was on Luna, but the other was on the party's host, uncertain and cautious. Knightbridge reached out and ran his fingers through Luna's unevenly cut blonde hair. She looked at him, blue eyes dull. "You remind me," he said, "of my wife." Malfoy did not move. Knightbridge turned his attention more fully onto Luna. "She had hair this color, a little longer, perhaps. I would comb it out for her whenever she woke from nightmares." He paused, his hand full of Luna's hair -- and here was the entertainment, here was the moment. He looked at Ginny. "It turned that color November two years past. Red. When Potter removed her face."

And his fist clenched around Luna's hair, dragging her head down even as she began to scream from the rope pulling her arms away, and Knightbridge didn't seem to care, didn't even look, all concentration on Ginny, his open hand reaching, fingers turned hooks, and--

"Thank you, Knightbridge," Malfoy said, his voice carrying over the screams. "Your bid will be taken into account."

For a moment it looked as if Knightbridge would continue. His hands shook. And then he released Luna's hair, the strands slipping through his fingers, and he rose stiffly. A moment later he left the dais and stood beside Dolohov, Knightbridge's eyes on some low middle-distance vision that only he could see.

"Next?" Malfoy asked.

Most of the bidders make their moves similar to Knightbridge's, though Malfoy partially healed the more egregious wounds. The thought went: This might be the only chance they would have to punish these horrors of the war. That Malfoy had a game going on, largely understood only by himself, was of almost secondary importance. Mulciber cut the women, one for each death in the family. Theodore Nott was particularly interested in the Weasley; he told her how her brother Percy had trusted Nott with his body, his heart, and eventually his wand -- which was what Nott had killed him with. He said it slowly, every detail, staring in her eyes, until Ginny was gasping from tears and mucus and pain. Melinda Bainsbury just ground her pointed heels into their kneecaps, one by one by one by one, and declared that she was done with her bid before Malfoy could call it. Rodolphus tried to sexually assault Luna, but Malfoy stopped him before he'd gone further than a vicious pinch of her left nipple for "lacking originality."

"Really, Aunt," Malfoy said. "I would expect better of your husband."

Bellatrix Lestrange shrugged from her position by the door. Attention shifted subtly from the beaten women to the family drama unfolding, though the guests strived to be unobvious. Bellatrix said, "He is not the creative one."

When she didn't continue -- and didn't try her hand at the dais -- Malfoy began to look faintly interested for the first time that evening. "Who is, then?"

Bellatrix smiled, the mad little twist that had convinced the allies that she was a _huli jing_, possessed by a fox spirit. The Dark Lord had done wisely introducing her to the delegates -- seeing her familiar state in a world of foreign magic was the changing point in the war. It had also been Malfoy's entrance to the island of Peng-lai, and his subsequent power now. Bellatrix was untouchable.

Instead of answering Malfoy's question, Bellatrix shook out her silk robes, embroidered up and down the sleeves with running foxes, and wandered to the dais. She, like Knightbridge, knelt between the two girls. "Nephew," she said, "have you rendered them entirely mute?"

"Temporarily," Malfoy said. The guests murmured, shifted. "Do you have a request, Aunt?"

Bellatrix brushed the question away. "This suits my purposes well enough," she said, "though I expect you to release them of it when they enter my service."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "And if I end your time now, before you have a chance to make your bid?"

Bellatrix looked over her shoulder, and her feral grin nearly matched that of Malfoy's Luck Cats. "Who says I have not yet begun?"

Bellatrix Lestrange had started life as one of the pureblood Black daughters; grew insane from having her soul pulled from her in Azkaban like shreds of meat; and had been given many gifts by the Ally Wizards when they saw what her madness might become. Bellatrix untied her belt and opened her robes to the imprisoned women.

The guests saw Bellatrix, pale and long-limbed, ribs leaving small shadows on her torso as she pushed her silk robes away. She was naked beneath them. Her breasts were full, heavy, the nipples large and matching the color of her mouth. A curl of black hair painted the junction of her thighs.

The effect was slow in coming, the length of a few seconds, but then Luna choked on a gasp and Ginny looked out from behind her hair with brown eyes turned fire bright. "You see, Nephew," Bellatrix murmured, "they wonder why I am suddenly so beautiful to them. Look--" Bellatrix reached out and ran one nail around Ginny's areola, just enough to dent the skin. Ginny strained forward, fast breaths, and the room stared as her nipples tightened, jutted out from the flesh. Even as Ginny closed her eyes and bit her lip with the sensation, Luna began to tremble, twisting her bonds -- not to escape, but to rub, to feel something on her skin that she wanted but did not yet have--

"They don't understand it, Nephew, but unlike everything else that has happened to them tonight, at least this feels good," Bellatrix said, and transferred her caress from Ginny to Luna. Ginny's eyes snapped open; a low whine began in the back of her throat, a keening for what was lost to her. Bellatrix drew her nails harder against Luna -- Luna moaned, bright blood-colored lines following Bella's fingers.

"They think to themselves," Bellatrix said, "why am I letting this monster touch me? Why am I feeling this heat grow below my belly? Why do I want her hand--" Bella ran her fingers down Luna's torso, moving as if she was discovering the strange land of a new lover's skin, finally brushing the top of Luna's blonde thatch, "--_here?_" Luna jumped in her ropes.

"You do want it, don't you, sweet?" Bellatrix said, speaking directly to Luna. Luna nodded, nodded, cried and nodded.

"Then spread for me," Bellatrix said.

The rope bound Luna's legs fast beneath her, but that didn't stop her from breaking one of her ankles with the force of her attempt to spread wide for the huli jing. The break sounded wet and crunching, and Luna screamed once for the pain, and then screamed again, hotter, when Bellatrix pressed her hand down into Luna's wet folds and ran her nails there.

The guests were caught in the spectacle. Ginny Weasley, Potter's Armsmaster, a redhead's flush creeping along her cheeks, rocking in place and taking great breaths of air in time with the two women beside her. Luna Lovegood, Potter's broken Seer, weeping even as sweat built at her temples and the muscles of her abdomen tightened, loosened, tightened again in a hypnotic rhythm. Bellatrix Lestrange, the huli jing and beloved of Voldemort, fucking Lovegood with three fingers, hard and fast, smiling with sharp teeth.

And then there was Draco Malfoy, Voldemort's seneschal in the mortal realm since the Dark Lord had joined the ancestors of the Allies to rule from the immortal world, standing by the window and watching, watching, lips parting, eyes oddly bright. He had not yet called the end of Bellatrix's time, though it had already stretched beyond what had been granted to all others.

Four fingers now, and Bellatrix's thumb pressing on Luna's clit, Bella leaning forward on one hand, her breasts swinging from her thrusts. Her ass was up in the air, a bitch in heat, and everyone in the room, man and woman, wished themselves on that dais, behind those pale buttocks, fucking into the heat the fox's scent promised. Bellatrix turned her head and sucked one of Luna's nipples into her mouth. Luna cried out, her muscles tremored, and she came in a wave of pale fluid over Bellatrix's hand.

Bellatrix leaned back slowly, and removed her fingers. Luna's come ran down her thighs, coated Bella's hand. Bellatrix smiled first at Luna, and then looked at Ginny. "A taste of things to come, sweet," Bellatrix said, and pressed her hand to Ginny's face. Ginny opened her mouth and took in Bellatrix's slick fingers, letting Bella fuck her mouth as she'd fucked Luna's cunt. Ginny breathed harder, her tongue a bright flash along Bellatrix's skin. Bellatrix removed her hand and Ginny nearly broke her wrists trying to follow.

"No," Bellatrix said. "Not yet."

The huli jing stood up, her knees red and raw from her time on the dais, her skin sweat-soaked and flushed, and put back on her fox-embroidered robe.

There was a subtle change.

The guests saw Bellatrix Lestrange again; still beautiful, but mad, quite mad, even the Allies thought so and this evening was just further proof, though there was a pleasant afterglow to be had from yet another Malfoy party...

The prisoners saw the enemy again, but with a strange glow about her, auburn red, fading down and down until there was just the red room left and their captors, their tormentors staring...

Malfoy saw his aunt approach him. "I can make them love me," she said, her hair black waves slithering over silk, "and anything I do to them." She leaned forward, her cheek just barely touching Malfoy's, and murmured, "I expect them in my rooms by the time I return to them."

The huli jing can be seductresses. The scent of his aunt was intoxicating, making him think of dark nights, sheets pulled tight, black eyes staring up with lust, dreams and shadows and half-known desires shared by twice a dozen more minds in the room...

Malfoy nodded, and the Luck Cats came for the prisoners.

  
END


End file.
